THE POWER AND THE FURY

by James Erith

  ‘I tell you what,’ the ghost said, moving closer, ‘is this one of your dreams?’ And in a flash, the ghost whipped out a tiny dagger the size of a penknife encrusted with red jewels.

  Archie froze as the knife floated through the air towards him. Moments later he felt a nick just under the left side of his chin and yelped. He put his hand up and worked the smooth velvety texture between his forefinger and thumb before it turned sticky.

  He had been cut – violated – by a ghost! Archie’s head thumped. He sidled back down his bed. It was definitely dangerous.

  The ghost moved closer, as though inspecting the damage. ‘Goodness me, a little human blood – I haven’t seen any of that for years,’ he said coldly. ‘You do believe I exist, don’t you?’

  Archie’s whole body was rattling. He found that he could see straight through him. He nodded, his eyes bulging.

  ‘Good. Let’s be quite clear about that straight away,’ the ghost said moving a little further from the bed. ‘You might be aware that you are on the threshold of something rather extraordinary. There are mortal challenges you must face. I am sure you know of them through the images that have been given to you.’

  Archie nodded. ‘The nutty dreams?’ he stuttered.

  ‘Precisely,’ said the ghost, chuckling. ‘Nutty dreams.’

  Archie shivered. ‘But I don’t understand them.’

  The ghost sucked in a mouthful of air. ‘You’ve heard about the Garden of Eden?’

  Archie’s brain fizzed. If it wasn’t Solomon banging on about the Garden of Eden, it was a deranged ghost. I mean, the place didn’t even exist, did it? OK, so it might have done six thousand years ago! Why was this ghost so interested in the Garden of Eden?

  Archie kept as still and as quiet as he could, hoping like mad that the ghost would say his piece, not mutilate him further, and go away.

  The ghost stared at Archie for a few moments as if trying to gauge his knowledge of the subject. ‘Well, Eden’s where life began, you must know this. But more recently it’s been, how should I put it, on ... standby. The thing is,’ the ghost explained, ‘there’s a slim chance it may operate again, which would mean terrible things must happen to my mother.’ The ghost paused as though taking stock. ‘Everything clear so far?’

  Archie couldn’t think, let alone figure out what the ghost was talking about, but he nodded.

  ‘Good. Now this forthcoming event is known as the Prophecy of Eden and it involves you, my boy. And I would like to help.’

  The ghost leant in – almost earnestly – Archie thought, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

  ‘In return, you can help me. You know, a tit-for-tat arrangement.’

  Archie tried to remember to breathe. His eyes were straining to remain in their sockets. He blinked several times over and over, trying very hard to understand what was going on. It was madness; how on earth could this ghost know about his dreams which were still rattling around in his mind?

  Archie sensed that the ghost was smiling thinly at him. Then it chuckled like an old motor. ‘If the time comes, I will need you to take good care of the Ancient Woman – see that no harm comes to her.’ His voice trailed off as he searched Archie’s face. ‘You do know about the Ancient Woman?’

  Archie looked a little confused.

  ‘Well, you see,’ the ghost continued, ‘she’s my mother and she’s a sad old woman hanging on to life. But she’ll never see it again because she’s blind, like me.’ The ghost paused solemnly as if remembering her. ‘To cut a long story short, Archie, she took the noble but worthless step of sacrificing herself in order to keep a spark alive.’

  ‘A spark?’ Archie quizzed, barely able to squeeze the words out. ‘A spark of what?’

  ‘A spark of life, I suppose.’

  Archie thought he’d better play along and said weakly, ‘And if you save your mother, will it mean you stop being a ghost?’

  The ghost was thankful Archie couldn’t see his face as he was barely able to control himself. What a naive thing to say, the boy didn’t have a clue. ‘Of course not,’ he sobbed trying to hide the laughter in his voice. ‘My body is gone, but my spirit is forever.’

  ‘But it will mean I’ll stop having dreams about ... about killing her.’

  ‘If you help me, then I promise that is exactly what will happen.’

  Archie was confused. ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘In due course, you must protect her, no matter what,’ the ghost said quietly. ‘There are some that would want her dead. These people may think they are right to wish so, but rest assured they are mistaken. You must protect her from harm – do you understand? I’m asking so very little.’

  Archie breathed out a sigh of relief. In the event that this entire conversation hadn’t taken place in an unknown part of his brain and in lieu of his appalling dreams, looking after this Ancient Woman had to be the right thing to do. I mean, who would want to kill an old woman? Maybe the ghost was on their side, even if it was a bit knife-happy. Perhaps ghosts were like that.

  Archie nodded, hesitatingly, but it was a nod.

  ‘Very good,’ said the ghost, whose gaze seemed to stare at Archie for rather too long.

  Cain hovered into the middle of the room. The boy – this Heir of Eden – has no idea what is going to happen, he thought. His dreams are just images and he has found no meaning in them. Did people of Earth not understand dreams anymore? Asgard was right – these children would never survive the storm, let alone complete the other tasks of the Prophecy.

  Now to put into place Asgard’s plan. He rubbed his hands. It made perfect sense: if he could lure this boy into him – as part of him – he might be partially restored and utilise the boy’s power. And, let’s face it, he thought, it was a great deal for the boy, it would save his life. It was too good an opportunity.

  Cain floated back to Archie’s bedside. ‘There is another way,’ he began.

  Archie didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘I want you to consider joining me – physically – as my flesh and blood.’

  Archie looked tired and confused. He yawned. ‘Join you?’

  ‘Not right now, of course, I’d like you to think about it. But joining me will save your life.’

  Archie stretched his arms out wide – he had no idea what the ghost was gabbling on about. Was it a deal of some sort? ‘Sure,’ he said, wearily. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Good-good, I’m thrilled ... delighted,’ Cain said, as he felt the weight of his coat. ‘I am sorry about the knife,’ he continued. ‘I don’t have time to explain things in great depth, so occasionally it pays to use ... other means.’

  ‘But, Mr ... sir,’ Archie said summoning his nerve, ‘if I did this thing, er, what’s in it for me?’

  ‘What else, for you, Archie? Ah yes!’ the ghost was thinking on his feet. ‘What’s in it for you? Of course, how silly of me!’

  The ghost drew himself up as best he could and faced Archie. ‘I hold the secrets of ages past, Archie. I will offer you strength and courage, young man, so you are feared and respected. You will have the strength of a horse and the courage of a lion. I will give you my word that these rewards are genuine. All you have to do is meet me tomorrow morning – somewhere safe, where I can be with you alone. Then I will show you more and when you know the facts you will choose to join me.’

  The ghost made this sound so easy – so obvious. But his voice turned darker. ‘There is a terrible time coming, Archie, but I alone offer you salvation.’

  Archie hesitated. By now he was absolutely desperate to get some sleep. In any case, he thought, like his dreams, he’d never remember it in the morning. He nodded again. ‘Yeah, sure, OK.’

  ‘Excellent! Then you will meet with me in no more than nine hours and no less than eight,’ the ghost demanded. ‘Think of a place where no one will see us.’

  Archie tried to think. ‘Er. There’s a back alleyway above the bank of the football field near the school,’ he yawned. ‘You’ll know
you’ve found it when you see two houses leaning in on each other. If you go up there it’s normally pretty quiet.’

  ‘Very good,’ the ghost gushed. ‘Make sure you wear a long overcoat like mine and a scarf. Do you have one?’

  Archie didn’t, but he said he did. He was now quite fed up and reckoned the best way of getting rid of the ghost was to agree with everything.

  ‘And do you like sweets, Archie?’

  ‘Yeah, a bit,’ Archie replied. What a curious question from a ghost. ‘Old Man Wood’s the sucker for sugary things. He’s always dipping his fingers in the sugar bowl and getting told off by Mrs Pye.’

  The ghost, invisible though it was, seemed to flinch. ‘Is that so? Yes, I had forgotten.’

  Archie felt a little stupid.

  A groan from the bed nearby signalled that Daisy was stirring.

  ‘We meet in a few hours in the alleyway,’ the ghost whispered as it drifted slowly to the door, struggling to keep the coat on top of him. ‘Now remember, tonight’s chat, young man, is our very own secret. Any tongue-wagging and the deal is off.’

  Archie caught a glimpse of the knife.

  As the ghost reached the door he was almost bent double. ‘See you tomorrow, Archie. Be in no doubt that your life will change forever a few hours from now – the strength of a horse and the courage of a lion – you will never regret it. Now not a word to anyone, including the old man.’

  Archie nodded. ‘What ... what’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah yes. I forget – the finer, important details.’ His invisible eye sockets bore into Archie who felt as though his heart was briefly being sucked out of him. ‘I am the ghost of Cain, son of Adam and Eve, brother of Abel. Maybe you’ve heard of me, maybe you haven’t. Who knows what is taught these days.’ Cain stopped as if an idea had popped into his head. ‘You have a cup of water?’

  Archie told him there was one on the table just behind him.

  Cain hovered towards the table and then made as if to feel for it. When he found it, he dropped something in which fizzed a little. ‘You will need this. Drink and it will give you great strength. Until tomorrow, Archie.’

  And with those words, Cain slipped quietly out of the door.

  Archie fell back on his pillows, rubbed his eyes and wiped the beads of sweat off his face. What was that all about? What a dreadful, dreadful night; nightmare after nightmare.

  In the back of his mind he wondered if this ghost was the Cain as in ‘Cain and Abel’ in the Bible story. Wasn’t he the son of Adam and Eve? Crikey. Properly bonkers. Didn’t Cain kill Abel or something and get turned away? He’d have to look it up. Archie rubbed his eyes – he was so tired. It was almost impossible to know what was real and what wasn’t. Anyway, the one thing he was absolutely sure of was that he wasn’t going to meet the ghost – whatever strength or courage power he’d offered him. No way.

  He studied the clock. Three thirty-five. He did a quick calculation. Eight hours from now and it’d be bang in the middle of the football match. Nine hours and the game would just be finishing. He chuckled – a classic timetable clash. Well, at least the problem was sorted; there was no way he was missing the game and certainly not for a deranged ghost.

  He smiled, relieved by his fortunate scheduling, closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  Gaia the dreamspinner had a feeling – a vibration – that Archie was awake. She arrived in the room to find the ghost talking with Archie. From the corner, she listened in.

  She was astonished to learn a couple of things. Firstly, that it was Cain, the Master of Havilah himself, forever banned from leaving Havilah, who had somehow found his way to the Heirs of Eden’s bedroom only hours after the last part of the Tripodean Dream had been given. This was beyond comprehension.

  Secondly, Cain knew about the children’s dreams and was aware of the Gifts of Eden. Thirdly, Archie had no idea about his own gifts – but Cain knew enough to exploit him.

  It was astonishing. Cain was clever and manipulative, but how was it possible?

  Gaia thought it through, reaching the same conclusion again and again. One of the dreamspinners must have communicated with Cain. It was the only way. But dreamspinners were honour-bound to be neutral in all things. They did not meddle; this was engrained into their very fabric.

  There were only four of them who had seen the dream and gifts given: Genesis, Asgard, Janana and herself. The most senior dreamspinners.

  Genesis? Was she bitter about coming to light in front of the boy? No, it didn’t add up. What about Asgard? He was the one who objected to giving the Gifts of Eden to children, but he was also the most passionate dreamspinner about dreams. Or Janana, the quiet one. Yes, Gaia thought, maybe it was her.

  And then another thought whistled into her mind. Cain was a spirit so perhaps he had travelled ... through a dreamspinner? Gaia reeled. In which case, a dreamspinner must have forged a pact with Cain.

  But why?

  Perhaps another dreamspinner was close at hand? She searched her vibrations. Nothing. Dreamspinners moved through the universes so fast it was as if they were fluid. This dreamspinner would have to be caught in the act.

  Gaia looked down on the boy who turned his head on the pillow. The children had no idea what was about to happen. She moved in close and administered a deep space dream in the hope that the meeting with Cain might feel like it never happened. Whether it worked was up to Archie’s subconscious to decide.

  Hoping it was enough, Gaia inverted into her maghole through the void to another world.

  15

  Havilarian Toadstool Powder

  Cain could feel his overcoat bearing down on his body, but he had an idea, an idea so brilliant he was determined to carry it out even if it meant he had to let the coat slip to the floor.

  It was another stroke of pure genius. While searching through his cupboards, he’d stumbled upon a jar of grey powder. Cain pulled the jar out of his pocket and inspected it – wondering if the contents were still alive. He smiled. Havilarian toadstool powder. A lethal poison, designed to kill those from the Garden of Eden. There was enough powder to reduce the old man to a ghost just like himself – several times over. Old Man Wood’s value would be nullified – not that he had much worth. The old man would become a spirit just like him and therefore even more useless than he already was.

  Cain reached the hallway. No Asgard. Good, he thought, better the dreamspinner doesn’t know.

  Cain cursed as his ghostly frame struggled under the weight of the coat. He let it fall to the floor in a heap. Then he searched the vibrations of the room and as he did a map started to appear in his mind’s eye. He needed to find the kitchen. He headed down a corridor and came to a door. As he was carrying the powder it meant he couldn’t go straight through it, so with a great deal of effort, he pushed it open and slipped through. Instantly he sensed a room with a table in the middle. He could feel the resonance of plants and foodstuffs hanging from the ceiling. A little to the left were strong vibrations of a smouldering fire – a cooker perhaps. Good; he was in the right place.

  As he moved about, he could feel the energy of the cupboards. Then he thought hard about sugar. Cain felt a surge of energy. There it was. Near to the cooker. He opened the door. The sugar grains were there, exactly as he suspected, nestled in a bowl.

  Cain grinned. Easy to see, he thought, when one has had eons of time to master the energy around us. With considerable effort, and taking far longer than he anticipated, he opened the jar and poured the contents into the sugar bowl, which as far as he could tell, was half full. Perfect. As he did, he could hear tiny squeals coming from the powder.

  Cain chuckled. Double luck. The Havilarian toadstool powders were most definitely alive.

  Cain replaced the items and drifted out of the room back to the fireplace. He felt for the vibrations of the spider. Nothing. Damn.

  Upstairs he could hear the yawns of the old man stirring in his bed and his feet padding on the ceiling above.
<
br />   Come on, Asgard, where are you?

  A moment later, the stairs began to creak very loudly under the old man’s weight.

  Cain didn’t want to hang about. Even though he knew he couldn’t be seen he absolutely didn’t want to be sensed. He didn’t want anyone to know that he was out, had left Havilah, and was in the house of his father – the house of his greatest enemy.

  As the footsteps got louder he heard a noise. ‘Master, it is Asgard. Dive now. Do nothing else.’

  ‘About time,’ Cain snapped. Without waiting to be prompted, Cain knelt down and dived, hoping like mad it was at the right place. As he left, he heard a small cough and the shuffle of feet as Old Man Wood entered the room.

  ‘You cut it fine, dreamspinner,’ he snapped.

  ‘I cannot pretend it was easy, Master. One of the dreamspinners is suspicious. I must go. There are dreams to give and other dreamspinners to talk to. I cannot be found in Havilah.’

  ‘Find me in eight hours as the storm breaks,’ Cain said. ‘With luck, I will get the boy. You know there will be no hiding place for you, dreamspinner, if this is the case?’

  Asgard signed. ‘That is why I must go. There are others I must talk to.’ He inverted, leaving Cain in his great ballroom.

  Cain gasped. A terrible realisation struck him; he had left the coat behind with the dagger in the pocket! But his shock soon turned to glee and then laughter.

  Ha! The cut on young Archie’s chin might be explained by a bump in the night but the coat will prove I was there, he thought. The boy cannot ignore it. Archie will see it and take it. Cain thumped the air. Oh, to see the look on his face! And now he will come to me, like flies to sugar.

  Enjoying the image of the sugar bowl filled with Havilarian toadstool powder and flies, Cain threw his invisible head back and roared with laughter, the noise echoing eerily down the passages and through the rooms of his huge palace.

  What an astonishing, fabulous day.